So This Is The End
by metatrons-gurl
Summary: (Movie Fic) Dark Fic: What if everything was not as it seemed? Title from Story Of The Year.
1. So This Is The End?

Title: So This Is The End?  
Author: metatronsgurl  
Disclaimer: I do not own a thing....Except...Hopefully...The plot....I hope I'm the only one screwed up enough to think of this...  
Rating: Hard PG-13 or a soft R.  
Warnings: Ummm....Dark fic....Deals with schizophrenia and suicide. Definitely not one for the impressionable kiddies...  
A/N: Was I the only one screaming "Struggle, stupid! Struggle!" when the Horseman had Katrina? Anybody else looked for an explanation? I did. And in my ten days sans computer, this is what my oh-so-screwed-up mind came up with...If it doesn't make sense tell me. Flame me if you have to...This is most definitely a one-shot 'cause I freaked my Mom out writing it...

_ I had been fascinated with the New York constable from the moment I had laid eyes on him. Over time that fascination had grown and deepened into what some mistook for love or adoration. Only I knew the truth; it was an obsession, pure and simple.  
I furthered my obsession by showing affection towards him. This served a dual purpose. It caused my prize to begin to have an interest in me and it began to distance Brom Van Brunt.  
I had wanted to be rid of Brom for nearly two years. He was a toy I had tired of playing with. I could no longer pretend to be the scared and submissive girl he had fallen for.  
I yearned to control.  
The beginning of the murders was both a blessing and a curse; a blessing because it delivered the constable to me, and a curse because it caused Brom to 'tighten his hold' on me. I suppose it all worked out in the end. Even as I ensnared the constable, jealousy began to drive Brom away.  
I will not lie. I was rather upset when I was told of Brom's unfortunate end. He had been such a very good toy.  
Everything was perfect.   
__That is, until she returned.   
__I had restrained her for so long. How she broke free I will never know. It would seem that during her time in submission she had learned of my plan, for she immediately set about to destroy it. Reading his ledger to find any thing she could use to drive him away. Burning his evidence for the sole purpose of fighting with him. Drawing symbols under his bed to protect him. Not from the Horseman, but from me.   
I fought her, of course. I fought bitterly. Control wavered between the two of us. Despite my best efforts, she almost succeeded; he left, broken hearted. I nearly gave up then; I receded and allowed her control. She wept with relief when she saw him go. I suppose she thought she had won our nine-year war.   
Fortunately for me, dear Stepmother chose that time to reveal herself. You see, what my stepmother did not know was that, hidden, in the folds of my enemy's dress, was one of the sharpest knives in the household. She thought she would just end it all. Stupid girl. She could not do it. She always was the weak one.   
When Stepmother announced her presence, the shock was too much for her and she lost consciousness. That was exactly what I needed to regain my hold.   
That hold lasted until the gun went off in Stepmother's hand and I believed my quarry to be dead.   
Since then I have lain in wait. It has been nearly a year. They have settled down in New York. She and the constable are now wed and are expecting their first child.   
Her control is waning and she knows it. Soon I will be able to regain my rightful position and complete my plan.   
Soon I will finally rid myself of her presence. I will have control. Of everything_  
  
Katrina Crane stared out the window at the midnight sky. Tears streamed silently towards her pillow. She gently extricated herself from her husbands grasp. This would end tonight.   
She opened the top drawer in the night table. Reaching into the back, she opened the panel. She had written the letter long ago. Shortly after she and Ichabod had wed she had added to it.   
It would be of no consolation to him, of course, but it would at least help him to understand why. She placed the folded letter on her tearstained pillow, within easy grasp, and gently kissed her love's cheek.   
She padded silently to the door. "Goodbye," she murmured before closing it behind her. She continued down the stairs, tears splashing softly onto the wood. This would not be easy. She had never expected it to be.   
She reached the undersized kitchen and quickly found the small knife she had set aside. Gripping it, she walked back to the living room and sat in the simple wooden chair.   
The final battle of this war would be fought tonight, and this time there would be no interruptions.


	2. Just A Ghost To The World

Title: Just a Ghost To The World  
Disclaimer: If ya don't know it by now.......Pickering is mine though....Don't own the songs, but they are what continued the plot bunny. Really, if you want inspiration for angst, look up country song lyrics...  
Summary: Kind of a continuation of 'So This Is The End'. Once again the title is from Story of the Year.   
A/N: I know, I know....I said I wouldn't continue this....I lied....This is the last bit of this one though, I swear. Just so it isn't too confusing, the Point of View switches from Katrina to Ichabod after the song lyrics.

I had left a light burning in the bedroom so that I would be able to watch him sleep for a few moments. She was gone now, forever, and he would be waking up at any time. I could do nothing but wait.  
  
He did not deserve this. For an instant I wanted to take it all back; to go back in time. To do anything I could to save him this pain. But it was too late now. There was nothing I could do.  
  
As I felt the very last hope for revival leave my body, he awoke. Not the slow gentle awakening I had expected, but a swift jolt, as though he were waking from another nightmare. As he bolted upright, his hand flew to where I would have normally lain. He looked at my pillow, where the note lay, in confusion for a moment before his face paled. "No," he breathed harshly.  
  
I did not understand. I had awoken early several times on market days and left him a note, yet he seemed to sense the reason behind this instance. What exactly had he dreamed?  
  
His hand trembled as he reached for the letter. "Please, no," he nearly moaned. His eyes scanned it frantically, but only for a moment before he leapt out of the bed and started out of the room.  
  
I followed behind him, worried. His gait was not his normal one, he lurched from one side to the other and stopped several times, as if he were debating with himself and had to convince himself to go on. It was as if he were steeling himself for something he knew he would find.  
  
When he finally reached the living room, he took a very deep breath and entered it with his eyes shut tight, a tear beginning to squeeze its way through; there was no doubt in his mind as to what he would find there. My heart broke as I again wished I could change it all and make it not true.  
  
I looked at the image that would most likely be burned into my husband's mind for the rest of his life. One would think that I was merely sleeping were it not for the pallor of my face, the gashes in my wrists, and the knife that had fallen from my hand to the skirt of my nightgown. Ichabod let out a soft, anguished cry and was immediately by my side, or rather, my body's side. Heedless of the blood he would soon be covered in, he grasped me and held me, just as I had when a nightmare woke him.  
  
"No. No, please. Please, God, let this be a dream. Let this be another dream" he repeated, almost as a mantra as he rocked us both gently. "Love?" he murmured, tears flowing freely now. "Please, come back to me. Please," he began to whisper something I could not make out. I hovered closer to the scene. "Don't leave me now. Please, not now. I need you, please, don't go. Don't go," he choked slightly and then did not bother with words. Only sobs came from him.  
  
I cursed myself. How could I have been so utterly stupid? I could have told him; we could have defeated her together. Instead I took the 'easy way out', and I had broken him. How could I have been so selfish?  
  
I moved behind him, wishing to hold him, finding I could not. Such was the price... I hovered as close to him as I could, trying to find any words that might comfort. I was not sure if he would hear me, but perhaps I could be of some solace.  
  
Unfortunately my lips played me false and I could do nothing but watch helplessly as my husband shattered before me and my mind replayed every moment with him. I could only pray that Jonathan would wake before he did something drastic.  
  
_'Whatever it takes  
Or how my heart breaks  
I will be right here waiting for you  
I took for granted, all the times  
That I thought would last somehow  
I hear the laughter, I taste the tears  
But I can't get near you now'   
Right Here Waiting- Richard Marx_

I cried myself into a stupor in her cold embrace. I did not hear when Jonathan rushed down the stairs to find what was amiss. I did not even hear when he dragged Pickering in when his own attempts at getting a response were fruitless.  
  
I clung to her even when both tried to pull me off, Pickering saying something about 'destroying evidence'. I did not care. All I knew was that if I let go, she was truly gone. If I let go, this was not a dream. I would not wake up and find her next to me.  
  
I so desperately wished to wake up. This dream had haunted me for several nights, each night I would wake and find her safe and in my arms.  
  
Until tonight.  
  
Fear had set in the moment I noticed the lack of her presence. Panic followed when I saw the letter. I did not have to read it to know what it held. From that point on my memory was a series of flashes. Jumping out of our bed, staggering down the hall, opening the door with eyes tightly closed, seeing...  
  
I let out a cry as the combined efforts of Pickering and Jonathan wrenched me from her. I feebly tried to return to her, but Jonathan blocked my path. I looked at him; his face was firm but there were tears.  
  
I crumpled to the floor and sobbed anew. Again I willed myself to wake up, willed this to be a nightmare. I even willed myself to faint, anything to take me away from this. As if to spite me, the blackness danced in the edges of my vision but refused to fully envelope me.  
  
The steadily rising morning light threatened to fully reveal the scene to me and in response I buried my face in my hands, smearing my skin with crimson.  
  
The words in the letter taunted me; I had not known her elegant hand could write such words. _"If someone is reading this, then what I feared has come to pass. I have lost. If indeed this is the case, I cannot justify what I have done."_ So cold, impersonal. Only the small, cramped note at the end sounded like the Katrina I loved. _"Darling, none of this is your fault. You were the one true light in my life. The light that kept her darkness away. But as you know, even the brightest sun must sometime succumb to the dark of night. I love you and I will never leave you. I will wait for you until we meet again. Love, I leave but just for a little."  
_  
I wept inconsolably for I do not know how long. I must have cried myself to sleep for when I woke again, I had moved back to our bed. I looked around me, the room was not changed, it was all as it had been when I went to bed with her.  
  
I glanced at the chair near the fireplace and thought I saw a glimpse of flaxen hair. I blinked and it was gone. I cursed myself for believing my traitorous eyes and fell back to the bed, instinctively turning to where she should be lying. Her scent danced around me and I found myself weeping again as the words of our lullaby replayed in my mind. _"Goodnight, sleep tight, no more tears. In the morning, I'll be here. And when we say goodnight, dry your eyes. Because we said goodnight, and not goodbye."  
_  
Before the blessed blackness overtook me, I thought morbidly that those words would never be true again.  
  
_'When I woke up this morning   
And wiped the sleep from my eyes   
I found a new day dawning   
And suddenly I realize   
You're gone   
Tell me I was dreaming   
That you didn't leave me here to cry   
You didn't say   
You don't love me anymore   
It was just my imagination telling lies   
Tell me that you didn't say goodbye'   
Tell Me I Was Dreaming – Travis Tritt_


End file.
